


Rain

by a_q



Category: Alias, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Conversation, Crossover, Rain, Stakeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:05:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conversation during a stake out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaila](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaila/gifts).



> From the request 'tiny little moments where not much seems to happen'.  
> Time wise I picture Sarah Connor as pre-Terminator 2 state - finding places for John to learn survival skills, and Irina as before S2/ being 'The Man'.

The rain spattered on the dusty road, snapped against the windshield. The sky had turned dark, the storm rising. Sarah watched Irina dash across the road, around the car. She slid in the seat next to her, slamming the door shut, the rain now a steady beat on the hood. 

“Here. I brought you something to eat,” Irina said, offering her the brown paper bag. Sarah took it, and plopped it in the space between the seats. It could be a long night. Irina had a steaming cup of coffee, and she picked the lid off, dropping it on the floor. “No sign of him?”

“Nothing. Are you sure he will turn up?”

“The man likes to drink,” Irina said and shrugged. “This is the nearest bar from the pier. He'll end up here sooner or later.” 

Sarah said nothing. She wasn't sure why Irina had wanted to tag along. She didn't need help, not with something as pedestrian as a stake out. She could ask her, but Irina didn't explain what she did or why, unless it suited her agenda. It was a good policy, Sarah could respect that. 

They were similar, but completely different in many ways. Irina constructed herself to be whatever the situation demanded of her. Sarah understood the skill, even if it made her uncomfortable. She was smart, and connected, and yet she wanted to stay in this forlorn little rock. Sarah didn't know why, maybe to lay low, maybe for something else. It was the something else that worried her. 

She knew her own reasons to stay here. It was because of John, as always. He had made quick friends with a group of boys, all scrawny and clever, scrounging and stealing what they wanted, running wild in the streets like a pack of dogs. Exactly the type John should practice his leadership skills with. And this place was in the middle of nowhere, maybe with any luck those same boys might survive the Doomsday. She tried not to think about it too much, but it was impossible to stop. She found herself looking every passer-by, wondering if they would be in the right place at the right time to make it. 

Sarah stared at the empty road, how it turned black with rain. The air sapped the light of the few street lamps at the bar's parking lot. They sat in silence, the smell of coffee filling the car. 

A lightning struck in the distance, the sound following in a quiet rumble. The storm was far away. Sarah felt Irina move, setting the coffee aside and she turned to see what she was doing. Irina stared at her, like considering something, then leaned closer, the worn leather of the seat creaking underneath her. Sarah simply sat there, watching her in the dim light. She stopped before her lips touched hers, close, but not enough. Maybe she waited to see if she would move away, or close the distance. Sarah did neither. 

Everything with Irina was a game, and Sarah had no interest to play when she didn't know the rules. Or what she was playing for. 

Irina waited a heartbeat more, and then pulled back, leaning against the car door, eying her with that calm, calculating way that made Sarah shiver. The look reminded her of the metal. She turned to look at the empty parking lot, deliberately avoiding Irina's eyes. A dog scuttled into the alleyway, looking for a shelter.

“Something on your mind Sarah?”

“Thinking if my roof will hold,” she said. “It looks like it's going to pour down.”

“My place is always dry,” she said, her voice laced with warmth. “You are welcome to it.”

Sarah tried to read her expression. Irina was a master in this, showing only what she deemed her opponent necessary to see. Now she showed interest, a touch of lust. It was impressive. 

“Why do you keep working this angle?” Sarah asked, resting her arm against the steering wheel. “This siren thing? You must know by now that I won't fall for that.”

“Maybe not, but you like it all the same,” she said and laughed, bright and innocent. A delicate shift of pressure. “And when you like me enough, you might tell me about the future.”

“Future? You don't need me for that, live one day at the time, and eventually you'll be there. You can see for yourself.” 

“I'm sure you could tell me more. If you wanted.”

“No.”

Irina shifted closer, radiating warmth like she could turn the effect on and off at will. Sarah stayed still, her skin crawling. Too much like metal, and that made her feel weak, helpless, like she was still hiding under the desk in that police station, the walls exploding around her. She didn't like to be reminded of that feeling. That wasn't who she was anymore. 

“Two years ago I saw a letter. It was written by a man called Milo Rambaldi. He lived in the fifteenth century, he had knowledge beyond our understanding. In this letter he described a woman, the mother of the future, who would be the messenger of the destruction.”

“Why are you telling me this? ”

“I know the woman mentioned is you,” she said. “Rambaldi gave a set of clues. The signs are all there.”

“You know that sounds insane, don't you? How could someone in the fifteenth century write something about me?” She tried her best to sound disbelieving, but she knew she wasn't fooling Irina. It made sense, as much as anything else. Kyle had traveled from the future, in comparison seeing the future sounded easy. 

“Tell me then, who's John's father?” Irina asked, like she had taken the thought from her head. 

“None of your business,” Sarah snapped, trying to hide her surprise, and she knew at once that her reaction had been a mistake. Irina's eyes brightened, her posture changing a fraction, from boredom to a sharp attention. 

“He was from the future, wasn't he? Time traveling is possible.”

Sarah said nothing. She considered opening the door and running out in the rain, back to the house she had rented. She would get John and steal a boat, get to the mainland before dawn. They could cross the border before midday. The only thing stopping her was the knowledge how easily Irina would caught up with her again. She needed a better plan.

“I'm not the enemy, Sarah.”

“I don't know what you are, and I don't care. You ask one more question about my son, and I will shoot you.” 

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Of course. I'm a mother too. We must protect our children.”

The bar door opened, the light streaming on the pavement, the loud music mixing with the rain until the door closed again, someone lighting a cigarette near the corner. A man walked across the parking lot, stopping to talk with the smoker before 

“Tell me,” Irina asked again. “I need to know. For my daughter's sake.”

“Leave it. It won't do you any good to know,” Sarah said, leaning to take her gun from the under the seat. “It won't do anyone any good. I think that might be our guy. We should move.”

Irina reached the touch her arm and Sarah flinched away from her, like her touch burned. She leaned back, smiling with a new degree of warm openness. 

“I'll tell you what the letter said about you. You might find it illuminating.” 

“Past doesn't interest me,” Sarah said coldly. “I have a job to do at the present. Are you coming or not?”

“Of course. I got your back.”

“That's what worries me,” Sarah muttered to herself, opening the car door and stepping in the rain. She had a feeling it wouldn't be wise to have Irina behind her back.


End file.
